It was hard, yes, but not at all what I had expected. No, instead of feeling his manhood pressing into me, I felt something completely frightening.
The dagger was ornate…as if carved for royalty. Jeweled and beautiful…and exciting as hell. I was terrified of what he intended, yet, transfixed by the possibilities.
He held it to my throat, just so that I’d feel the bite of the edge. I held my breath waiting for the next move. He just smiled at me in the moonlight as he slipped a finger inside of me. The rage, the pain, the mingling of excitement and fear…it was more than I could take.
I came in wracking bursts. My breath ragged and ashamed. He held the dagger closer to my throat as he made love to me. Love? Yes, because even in it’s violence there was a tenderness to his touch.
He both loathed and loved me. And I him.